


better than bacon

by Batik



Series: the college AU [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: Just ... more.





	better than bacon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel/continuation of my 2018 S/G Challenge fic, ["just right"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921087). It would be nothing close to what you see here, had it not been for the infinite patience of my beta as I slowly, slowly worked my way through this over the course of about 9 months. Thanks, [Velvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetPaw/pseuds/VelvetPaw)!
> 
> Happy playoffs! Let's go, Pens!

They walked to Sid’s place just off-campus, shoulders bumping along the way. Well, Sid’s shoulder bumping Geno’s bicep, because, yeah, Geno definitely had a few inches on Sid. It wasn’t often that Sid managed to hook up with a guy who was bigger than him — most men really aren’t that tall, in his experience — and he was big on honesty, even with himself. He really liked having to look _up_ for a change.

It wasn’t a long walk, under 10 minutes, but they easily doubled it with the number of times they stopped to kiss or grope at each other, letting their hands roam freely under untucked shirt hems and across smooth expanses of skin.

Once at Sid’s house, it seemed to take forever to get the front door unlocked, between Geno being so distracting and the deadbolt always choosing to be difficult at the worst possible time. There was a trick to the lock that they all had mastered pretty quickly, but Sid was having a hard time managing it with Geno at his back, warm hands on his waist and lips on his neck.

“You sure this your house?” Geno teased, his nose tracing the shell of Sid’s ear as Sid jiggled the door handle. “Neighbors not gonna call cops, think someone breaking in?”

“No, it’s my house. Obnoxious lock and all,” Sid said with a slight grunt as his key finally slid into just the right spot and he shoved at the door, which also was prone to sticking on days that ended in Y. 

They practically tumbled into the front hall, Sid thrown off-balance by the door conceding their fight and Geno — hands still at Sid’s waist — caught off-guard by the sudden movement. Sid counted himself lucky that he at least had the grace to stay upright after his initial bobble — he was pretty sure neither of them was looking for a bloody nose out of the night — and even luckier when it meant Geno was briefly pressed even more firmly against his back.

Still, now that the evening’s one-and-done rule had changed, he wanted Geno in his bed, not his foyer.

“Come on,” Sid said, tugging at one of Geno’s hands and turning to take the stairs, two at a time, to his second-floor apartment, where the lock — mercifully — was more cooperative.

Sid flipped a light switch inside the door and motioned Geno into the apartment ahead of him. He took a moment to lock the door behind them and turned. Geno had made it a few steps into the living room, stopping at the back of the couch and looking around.

“Nice place,” he said, turning his focus to Sid.

“It is,” Sid agreed, tossing his keys in the bowl on the table by the door and stepping closer. “We got lucky. Tanger’s adviser owns it — and a couple of other houses in the neighborhood. He split all of them into apartments and rents them out to students. He usually has a waiting list, but a couple of journalism majors chose internships over returning to school for the spring semester and there was a last-minute vacancy.”

“Tanger your roommate?” Geno asked.

“Yeah,” Sid said. “Him and Flower. I’m kind of surprised one of them isn’t here by now.”

“We could use to our advantage,” Geno said, leaning to sit on the back of the couch before reaching out to loop a casual arm around Sid’s waist and reel him into the spot between Geno’s spread thighs.

Sid went willingly, bracing his weight with his hands on Geno’s shoulders and pressing forward. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as his body registered Geno’s lack of give — Sid was not a small guy, full-body solid, but Geno hadn’t even wobbled when made to take Sid’s full weight. Sid had already figured out that Geno was strong. But his lankiness apparently was even more deceptive than Sid had realized earlier, and Sid suddenly needed to see more clearly what the darkness had masked.

He reclaimed a bit of his weight, just enough to balance without his hands on Geno’s shoulders — he wasn’t about to give up anymore proximity to that body than absolutely necessary — and began working at Geno’s shirt. With his hands already so close to Geno’s open collar, his natural first stop was the buttons. A bit of fumbling later and Sid had managed to undo just one more button. With the buttons Geno hadn’t fastened to begin with, it offered enough space that he could begin tasting his way down Geno’s chest, but it wasn’t going fast enough.

Sid huffed against Geno’ skin in exasperation and impatiently slid his hands under the hem of his shirt, pushing up the fabric as if to remove it like a T-shirt — only to thwart his own effort by darting his tongue out to trace along the line of Geno’s pectoral before licking over and then latching on to one of Geno’s nipples. Geno groaned and dug long fingers into bare skin at the base of Sid’s spine.

“Fuck, Sid,” Geno said, trying to slide his hands into the back of Sid’s waistband before apparently realizing the futility and switching tactics to work open the button fly of Sid’s jeans for a second time that night.

“Yeah,” Sid gasped against Geno’s skin before raising his head to meet Geno’s lips as Geno brushed his knuckles over the bulge of Sid’s dick through his underwear. “Please.” 

Then Sid was falling — actual what-the-fuck?! falling. He jerked and there was a moment of being off-kilter before Sid caught on to what was happening and rode the controlled sideways slide down the front side of the couch back. Geno had tipped them backward until gravity had taken over and they now were lying on the couch in a messy twist of arms and legs.

It was a bit awkward, but neither of them had kneed the other in the short fall and Geno had managed to land with one thigh between Sid’s. Sid went with it and rode the pressure until Geno finally managed to slide his hands inside Sid’s underwear and gripped at Sid’s ass. 

And that was … uncomfortable.

“Wait,” Sid said, his breathing a bit ragged as he forced himself to stop grinding against Geno’s thigh and prop himself up on one elbow, his other hand on Geno’s chest. 

Geno looked confused for a moment but, to his credit, quickly slid his hands out of Sid’s underwear and placed them more neutrally at Sid’s hips.

“You OK?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing down in concern. “What I do?” 

“It’s OK,” Sid said, rushing to reassure Geno. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But …

“What?” Geno said, beginning to rub soothing circles into Sid’s skin.

“We can’t do this here,” Sid said. “If either of the guys walks in on us fucking on the couch, they’ll probably make me buy a new couch and I’ll _still_ never hear the end of it. Worse if they bring their girlfriends back with them.”

“OK,” Geno said easily, the relief apparent as he grinned. “Maybe you give me grand tour? Start with your bedroom?”

“For sure,” Sid said, leaning in for one more deep, wet kiss before groaning as he pulled away and untangled himself to stand. He stuck out a hand toward Geno and Geno took it to pull himself up before Sid led him across the living room and past the kitchen to his room.

“And, here we are,” Sid said, once again flipping on a light as he turned to Geno. Geno slid his hands down Sid’s back and the curve of Sid’s ass as he glanced sideways at Sid’s bed — really just a mattress and boxsprings on the floor. He began dropping soft kisses on Sid’s lips, his cheek, along his jawline and down the side of Sid’s throat — and slowly started guiding them toward the bed.

“Wait,” Sid said again as he felt Geno’s heel butt up against the boxspring.

“Sid,” Geno said with a groan as he let his forehead fall to Sid’s shoulder before he took a deep breath and pulled back. “We don’t have to do this. It’s OK to change mind. I can go. But … just say.”

“No,” Sid rushed to clarify, pushing his half-erection into Geno’s thigh for good measure. “I do want to do this. I’m not asking to stop. Well, not completely. But …”

“But what, Sid?” Geno asked gently. “Just say.”

“I … I need to shower,” Sid said, feeling himself flush under Geno’s gaze. “I’ll be quick. But … I, um, I liked it, when you came. On me. Really. But it’s dry now. And it … it itches.”

Geno laughed, and Sid instinctively started to pull away before Geno tightened his grip to prevent it. 

“No, Sid,” Geno said. “Not laughing at you. Would never laugh at you. Just ... relief. Glad I’m not do something wrong. Go shower. I be here. Unless … I join you?”

“Maybe next time,” Sid said, letting out his own sigh of relief as he leaned in to suck Geno’s lower lip between his teeth and nip gently. “For now, five minutes, I promise.”

∞∞∞

It was possibly the quickest shower Sid had ever taken, fueled by a blend of wanting to stop the infernal itching, hoping to make it back to his room and behind its closed door before Flower or Tanger appeared, and really, really wanting to get back to Geno and Geno’s … _everything_.

Seriously. So what if they had just gotten off together less than an hour ago? As good as it was — and it was _really_ good — it only left Sid wanting more. He hadn’t even actually seen Geno’s dick yet, let alone gotten his mouth on it. And if the long, lean strength of the rest of his body was anything by which to judge, Sid really wanted to do that. 

Shutting off the water, Sid grabbed a towel and scrubbed haphazardly at his body. His skin was still damp but refreshingly clean as he wrapped the rectangle of terry cloth around his waist and poked his head out of the bathroom door. Hearing no sound to indicate his roommates had returned, he opened the door more fully and darted to his room, slipping inside and closing the door firmly behind him before locking it. The three of them were usually great about respecting one another’s privacy, but Sid wasn’t taking any chances. 

There was a noise behind him and Sid turned, bare shoulder blades pressing against the door as he met Geno’s eyes. Geno looked good — and a little bit gobsmacked — sitting on Sid’s bed, but Sid saw room for improvement.

“You seem to be wearing far too many clothes,” he said, arching an eyebrow and pointedly giving the length of Geno’s body a once-over.

“Was being polite,” Geno said. “Not want to assume.” 

“That’s very nice of you. Let me see if I can reward your good manners,” Sid said, dropping his voice along with his towel as he stepped toward the bed.

Geno didn’t relinquish his relaxed pose but he did move to toe off his shoes and kick them toward Sid’s desk and away from the bed. Sid paused, both to avoid accidentally getting hit by a flying tennis shoe and simply to watch. Geno unfastened his jeans and lifted his ass just enough to pull the denim and his underwear over the curve when Sid stopped him, waistbands at mid-thigh and Geno’s dick barely veiled by his shirttails.

Sid took one last step and went to his knees on the bedside rug, settling himself in between Geno’s legs. They no longer were as splayed as they had been, thanks to the constraints of Geno’s jeans, but they were every bit as long and lean as Sid expected and Sid still fit, his shoulders broad enough to provide a bit of resistance for the fabric and spread Geno’s thighs just a bit farther.

Once he was sure his knees weren’t going to complain, Sid took a moment to center himself, the heels of his palms grounded by the denim under them and his fingertips twitchy on Geno's bare thighs. The sparse hair there was just enough texture over smooth skin to make Sid crave more contact.

Sid inhaled, breathing deeply, both to fill his lungs and to take in the lingering scent of Geno laced through with a faint reminder of everything they had done earlier. He ducked, sliding his nose down the side of Geno's penis and under, tilting his head so the head of Geno's dick dragged along Sid's cheek. Sid flicked out his tongue to barely graze Geno's balls as he edged by, his breath warm in the pocket of space he had created. Geno twitched — his dick, his balls, all of him — as Sid completed his slow drag up the other side of Geno's dick and finally — finally — allowed himself to taste.

Sid looked up the length of Geno’s body, catching and holding Geno’s gaze as he nosed aside the hem of Geno’s shirt and used his tongue to drag the head of Geno’s dick between his lips. A swirl of his tongue along the cap line and Sid could feel Geno’s muscled thighs strain against their denim constraints.

Sid allowed himself a single suck before sliding off with a pop and leaning back on his heels, his fingers curling under both waistbands and tugging.

“Off,” he said, continuing to tug at Geno’s jeans and briefs. “Get your shirt. Change of plans. I was going to let your jeans do the work of holding you still while I had my way with you. But I’d rather have you naked.” 

It took about a half-second for Geno to let his protest — presumably at losing the feeling of Sid’s mouth on his dick — die on his lips as he caught on to what Sid wanted and started scrambling for the buttons on his shirt. By the time Sid finished talking, Geno had two buttons undone. By the time Sid had Geno’s jeans bunched up at his ankles and was working them the final few inches toward an unceremonious heap on the floor, Geno had his shirt unfastened and the sides flipped open, loosely framing abs that weren’t exactly chiseled but clearly were familiar with exercise of some sort. 

Sid definitely was into it. It had made complete sense earlier not to get completely naked before getting off together under the footbridge on campus. But Sid was more than good with this, too, this chance to explore, to feel more skin on skin, to get off again.

Jeans, briefs and socks fully on the floor and open shirt falling off one shoulder, Geno had sprawled back onto his elbows again, knees splayed. 

Sid took in the view and licked his lips. Now that he was seeing Geno’s dick properly for the first time, well … most dicks really weren’t that attractive. Functional — some more than others — but not much to look at. Geno’s? Sid hadn’t realized just how long he’d been looking until Geno spoke.

“Like what you see?” Geno asked, a grin spreading across his face to indicate he knew exactly how nice his dick was. 

And it’s not like Sid had never heard that line from a guy before or seen the mostly unwarranted arrogance behind a similar smile, but it usually left him wanting to get on with it, get off and get out as quickly as possible.

With Geno, he just wanted to lick that smile, see if he could taste Geno’s confidence and decide for himself just how arrogant Geno deserved to be.

Sid scooted deeper into the space between Geno’s thighs and leaned in, one hand on Geno’s knee and one between his pecs, until his lips were a whisper away from Geno’s and his dick was pressing into the bedding. 

“Very much,” he said, closing that final breath of space and giving into his urge to lick at Geno’s lips as Geno opened them to Sid.

The kiss was hot and hard, not a painful mashing of tender skin but not at all tentative. Sid moved his hand from Geno’s knee to his own dick and gave it a single, firm stroke, groaning into Geno’s mouth at the sensation before very deliberately returning his hand to Geno’s knee and sliding it up his thigh. It wouldn’t take much to get Sid there again, and he hadn’t even gotten started with everything he wanted to do with — to — Geno. 

Sid pulled back from the kiss just enough to break it, gratified to feel Geno’s abs contract under his palm as Geno surged gently forward to chase him. Sid pressed a bit of his weight into his palm, not so much a push as encouragement for Geno to stay where he was as Sid worked his mouth down one side of Geno’s throat, through the hollow at its base, along the centerline of Geno’s abdomen. The faint path of hair leading Sid toward his destination might not be much of a “happy trail”, but Sid was pretty happy anyway.

Sid paused with his mouth above Geno’s pelvis, releasing a puff of warm breath just to see Geno’s dick twitch. Then he licked the flat of his tongue across the damp spot at the tip before again swirling his tongue around the underside of the head and sinking down until his nose was brushing a smattering of curls and Geno’s dick was hitting the back of Sid’s throat.

“Sid,” Geno gasped, jerking forward to curl around Sid and burying his hands in Sid’s hair. Sid hummed around Geno’s dick but stilled, breathing through his nose and running soothing hands along Geno’s thigh, his side, until Geno relaxed enough to lean back again. This time Geno stopped his recline with elbows straight instead of bent, but it was still enough to allow Sid room to pull almost all the way off. He raised his eyes to meet Geno’s, which glistened with a heady blend of arousal and the best kind of desperation.

Sid arched an eyebrow and allowed himself to smile as best he could with his lips wrapped around Geno’s solid girth. A bit of saliva trickled past Sid’s lower lip and down Geno’s dick before Sid chased it with his tongue and followed the path back down until Geno was fully engulfed again, the weight of him satisfying on Sid’s tongue and the noises he was making just as satisfying in Sid’s ears.

Sid’s dick was ridiculously hard, especially considering how recently and how spectacularly he had come, and Sid’s hips twitched, trying to grind again into the relative solidity of the mattress but not quite managing the contortion needed at this point if he was going to keep his mouth on Geno.

And he was definitely keeping his mouth on Geno.

In compromise, Sid scraped a fingernail over the hard bud of the nipple under his palm as he dragged his hand down Geno’s torso and past to wrap around himself. He felt rather desperate to come but tried to ignore it in favor of drawing it out while he did his best to ensure Geno was equally desperate.

Sid let his mouth slide along Geno’s dick, alternating teasing swirls of his tongue on the downstroke with firm suction on the upstroke, encouraging Geno closer to his release until Geno sunk his fingers into Sid’s hair and tugged Sid off of him.

“Come here,” Geno said, accent heavy as his hand cupped the back of Sid’s head. Sid only took time for a single, lung-filling inhale before he pushed himself up off of his knees and clambered up onto the mattress beside Geno as Geno let himself fall flat on his back.

Sid angled himself over Geno until he could grasp both of their dicks in his hand, letting go only long enough to spit into his palm and slide it along his dick to ease the glide.

“Fuck,” he said as Geno brought his hand up to wrap around Sid’s and they both groaned into the sensation of their dicks sliding together. The friction was enough that it only took a few strokes before Geno started coming, the first warm spurt hitting the head of Sid’s dick and setting off his orgasm.

When they were both spent, Sid collapsed half on top of Geno, just to the side of the puddle they left across his abdomen. Both of them were still for a moment, the only movement the rise and fall of their diaphragms as they worked to catch their breath and the almost hypnotic brush of Geno’s thumb across the skin where he had wrapped his arm around Sid’s waist.

“That was … good,” Geno finally said, turning his head enough to kiss the top of Sid’s head.

“Just good?” Sid asked with a laugh. He could afford it, because he was pretty sure it was as phenomenal for Geno as it had been for him. 

“Very good,” Geno allowed, and Sid smiled into Geno’s shoulder as he heard the smile in Geno’s voice.

“Then we’ll just have to keep trying until we manage ‘great’,” Sid said, leaning up to leave a light kiss at the corner of Geno’s lips. “But, for right now, clean up and then sleep?”

“Yes,” Geno agreed. “You wear me out.”

“Is that a problem?” Sid teased with a grin as he disentangled himself and reached across Geno for the tub of hand wipes he kept on his bedside table.

“No,” Geno said quickly. “No problem. Best way to be tired. Can do as much as you want!”

Sid laughed and leaned in for a kiss to ease the shock of the cool wipe hitting Geno’s overheated skin as Sid swept it over the mess they had made. With a quick glance to be sure he had mostly gotten Geno cleaned up, Sid wadded up the wipe, tossed it toward the trash can and poked at Geno to move enough for them to get under the quilt on his bed. 

“You can stay, right?” Sid asked. “I mean, you don’t have to. But …”

“You not lie about bacon, did you?” Geno asked with a wounded expression that made Sid laugh.

“No, I didn’t lie about the bacon,” he said, curling into Geno’s side as Geno settled in. “Though I was kind of hoping you weren’t just staying for the bacon. Maybe another round after some sleep?”

“Definite,” Geno said, squeezing Sid where his arm wrapped around him before his grip went slack and Sid realized Geno was asleep. A squirm to get absolutely settled and Sid followed right behind him.

∞∞∞

Sid prodded at the bacon in the skillet, loosening an edge from where it was threatening to stick before catching the fork under two strips and flipping them together.

The bacon looked like it would crisp satisfyingly with another minute or two of cooking, so Sid set aside the fork and began working toward the next step, pulling out plates and utensils and stacking them on the counter for plating.

He gave the bacon another check and was lifting the first piece onto the paper towel-lined platter that he had sitting on the spare burner when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and warm lips just behind his ear.

“Good morning,” he said, briefly leaning his head back against a broad chest before removing the rest of the bacon from the skillet and turning off the burner. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You not,” Geno said, removing one hand from Sid’s waist and reaching toward the platter. “Smell bacon.”

Sid poked gently at Geno’s hand with his fork, drawing a gasp of playful outrage from Geno as he jerked his hand away.

“You promise bacon,” Geno said, letting his lower lip protrude for full effect as Sid turned and wrapped his arms around Geno’s neck to tug him down into a kiss.

“And you’ll get bacon,” Sid said as he pulled back enough to breathe. “But I had plans for waking you that didn’t involve bacon. So maybe we could go back to bed and we can test which is more effective at waking you — bacon or me.”

“Don’t know, Sid,” Geno said, his contemplative expression belied by the glint in his eyes. “Bacon hard to beat.” 

“I never said it wasn’t,” Sid said, leaning in until his lips were almost brushing Geno’s. “But I don’t intend to lose.”

Geno responded by closing the slim gap and kissing Sid again, the relatively unyielding roughness of Geno’s dark jeans both taunting and tantalizing as he pulled Sid’s shorts-clad hips flush with his own and ran one hand under the hem of Sid’s T-shirt.

Geno’s touch on Sid’s skin was electricity wrapped in goose down and he quickly relaxed into Geno’s solidity as they deepened the kiss. Then Geno dragged his lips along Sid’s jawbone before nipping at his earlobe.

“Why you bother with shirt?” Geno asked, his hand sliding farther up Sid’s back. “Just have to take it off again.”

“I was planning to,” Sid mumbled a bit more defensively than he intended. “But I wasn’t going to fry bacon without a shirt on.”

“Fair enough,” Geno said, dragging his lips back to Sid’s.

“Why’d you bother with jeans?” Sid countered at his lips’ first opportunity. “You’re just going to need to take them off again in a few minutes.”

“Also was plan,” Geno said. “But not want traumatize your roommates run around naked. And couldn’t find underwear.”

Sid was enjoying what Geno was doing with his mouth down the side of Sid’s neck, so it took him a moment to put together the pieces of that statement.

“So, you’re going commando right now?!” Sid made a noise somewhere between a moan and a groan as a spike of want had him clutching at Geno’s shoulders.

“Mean no pants under jeans, yes?” Geno questioned. “Then yes, commando. Now I’m …”

“Oh, my god, Sid!”

Kris’s exclamation startled Sid into jerking away from Geno, though he didn’t make it far with Geno’s arms still firmly around him.

“You are such a puck bunny!” Kris continued.

Sid felt his cheeks heat as he looked at his roommate, who was standing in the kitchen doorway looking far too pleased with himself and the situation, in general. But he’d done nothing wrong, he reminded himself, twining his fingers with Geno’s and giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s not like I’ve never brought a guy home before,” Sid said, grateful that Kris defaulting to French gave him an excuse to respond in kind.

“Seriously, man,” Kris said. “I knew your hockey fetish was going to get you in trouble one of these days, but …”

“First,” Sid cut him off. “It’s not a fetish. I just like hockey. Second, he made the first move. Third, I didn’t even know he was a hockey player when we met. So that’s not why he’s here.” 

“You didn’t know he was a hockey player?” Kris asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. ‘Christ. You have to be the luckiest, most oblivious bastard I know.”

“What are you talking about, Kris?” Sid asked, giving Geno an apologetic look and a mouthed “sorry” for continuing to speak in French. He felt bad about it, but there was no way he was having whatever this conversation with Kris was in English when Geno was standing right there.

“Fuck, Sid, you’re serious?” Kris asked, incredulous. “You spent 5 minutes in the worst club in town, walked out with the captain of the hockey team — who also happens to be your biggest hockey crush ever, by the way — and you didn’t even realize it?!”

Sid didn’t want to discuss his hockey crush with Kris, in any language, at any time, really. But certainly not while Geno was standing right there. Not when Kris wasn’t subtle — or right, in this case — and certainly not when Sid might stand a chance of making something real with Geno.

“Kris, this is _Geno_.” Sid said, switching to English and emphasizing the name as he looked at Geno. “Geno, this is one of my roommates, Kris.”

“Hi, Kris,” Geno said, giving a small wave. “Nice to meet.”

“You, too, Malkin,” Kris said pointedly, and in English, offering a wave of his own and a smug grin.

“Wait, what?!” Sid sputtered, feeling the blood drain from his face as he glanced between the two of them. “Kris, stop messing around. I told you, his name is Geno. I know your English is better than that.”

“My English is fine,” Kris said. “It’s perfectly acceptable to address someone by their surname.” 

“But …” Sid said weakly, glancing uncertainly at Geno. “Malkin’s first name is Evgeni.”

It was Geno’s expression that finally connected the last dot in Sid’s mind, and Sid reeled for a moment with the realization, dropping Geno’s hand in the process. Then he turned on … fuck Sid’s life … Evgeni Malkin.

“ _Three_ names?” he asked. “Really?”

Geno had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry,” he said. “‘Geno’ easier to say. Not secret. Not try to trick. Just not think. Think you maybe know who I am and not want to say or, if don’t, then not matter.”

“So … you’re … Evgeni Malkin?” Sid said slowly. “Captain of the hockey team, the team’s leading scorer, both in points and assists, and a crazy-good skater?”

“Don’t usually lead with stats, but … yes,” Geno said.

Geno’s face was doing something complicated, a blend of bewilderment and amusement.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Sid said, taking a step farther away and raising his chin a fraction of an inch as he crossed his arms, hoping the move came off as defiant rather than hurt. Kris was, thankfully, quiet. “Liking a hockey player’s hockey is normal. It’s not like I’ve been waving signs at games asking you to marry me.”

“I not laughing, Sid,” Geno said quietly, the trace of a grin on his face wiped away and concern tightening the corners of his eyes. “Not at you. At situation, little bit. But not you. I’m like you like hockey, _my_ hockey. And I’m like that you like me _without_ hockey. Mean you like _me_ , not idea of me.”

Geno slowly reached out and traced a finger along Sid’s forearm until he reached Sid’s hand. Sid shifted enough to allow Geno to take his hand, which he lifted until he could brush his lips along Sid’s knuckles.

“Hi,” Geno said. “My name Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin. Some people call Geno. Some people call Zhenya. Some people call other things, but not nice so not tell those. Pleased to meet.”

“Hi … Geno,” Sid said quietly. “Sidney Patrick Crosby. Sid. Nice to meet you.”

Sid may have lost a moment of time as he and Geno stared at each other, but then there was a sound from down the hall and Kris readily broke the quiet in the kitchen.

“Flower, get your ass in here,” he yelled, without moving or taking his eyes off of Sid and Geno.

“I’m about to get a shower,” Flower yelled back.

“Skip it,” Kris demanded. “You really don’t want to miss breakfast.”

“What’s the big …?” Flower said, his voice getting louder with his approach before dying off entirely as he appeared next to Kris in the doorway and took in the scene. _“Tabarnak!”_

There was another moment of silence as they all just stared at each other before Flower recovered himself enough to speak again.

“Sid,” he said, the glee in his voice barely hidden by the reproach, and his smile — the one that always got Sid’s guard up — not hidden at all. “Where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” 

Sid sighed loudly, only partially for effect.

“Go get your shower, Flower,” he said. 

“But breakfast, Sid,” Flower shot back. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Shower,” Sid repeated. “I haven’t even finished cooking yet, so you’re not missing anything.”

“But …” Flower started again before Sid cut him off.

“Go,” he repeated. “And, yes, I’ll introduce you to my _friend_ when you get back.”

∞∞∞

Fifteen minutes later found the four of them sitting around the kitchen table, bacon, eggs and toast mounded on plates they had filled at the counter before sitting.

Flower had showered quickly and practically bounced back into the kitchen, the tips of his hair still dripping on the collar of his T-shirt as Sid introduced him to Geno. Kris had, mercifully, not spent the time just standing in the doorway staring at Sid and Geno like he was witnessing alien life. Instead he had set about pulling out glasses for orange juice and milk and mugs for coffee and tea as Sid scrambled eggs and popped bread in the toaster.

Geno had returned to Sid’s room long enough to reclaim his shirt, which was a bit more rumpled from spending the night on the floor but no less devastating on Geno, in Sid’s eyes. Sid refused to consider whether Geno also had found and reclaimed his underwear. On one hand, Sid really enjoyed the thought that Geno hadn’t. But, if Sid was going to make it through breakfast, he needed to assume Geno had and hope that he would be proven wrong _after_ breakfast. 

True to form, the first few minutes of the meal were spent in relative silence as the four men made a good dent in their food. Then Tanger and Flower slowed down enough to talk again.

There was the standard trolling: 

“So, how did you two kids meet?” (Sid’s hard eye roll only made Flower’s grin that much more diabolically innocent.) 

And the college basics:

“What’s your major?” (modern languages) and “How’d you end up in Pittsburgh from Russia?” (Hockey scholarship.) 

“How’d you end up in Pittsburgh from Canada?” (Scholarship/the school had something to offer both my girlfriend and me/I’m still not really sure, but it’s worked out OK.) 

Then there was the hockey talk, which carried them through empty plates and second cups of coffee or juice.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t realize last night that Geno was Evgeni Malkin, Sid,” Kris said, looking unimpressed and waving his fork back and forth between Sid and Geno as Flower choked on his juice.

Sid deliberately hadn’t mentioned that when he introduced Geno to Flower as they were sitting down to eat. He should have known Kris wouldn’t let it slide for long.

“Well, now I can see the resemblance to his team photo in the programs,” Sid said once Flower seemed like he would live to hold this story over Sid for years to come. “But with the full cage on the helmets, you don’t see faces a lot at games. And I’m used to seeing him on the ice, not a dance floor. As big as you are in person, Geno, you look much bigger on skates and wearing pads.”

“OK, I suppose that’s true enough,” Kris said, looking at Geno. “You’re an absolute beast on the ice, man.”

“Right?” Sid said, glad that Kris was at least willing to concede that. “And, yeah, Geno. When I saw you at the club, I thought you were … attractive —”

“Admit it, Sid,” a clearly fully recovered Flower butted in. “You thought he was hot and you wanted in his pants, hockey pants or otherwise.”

“I thought,” Sid said as firmly as he could manage, “that you were … attractive. But if — if! — I had even a vague idea that maybe you looked like Malkin — and I don’t think I did, at least not consciously — well, it kind of disappeared when you said your name was Geno.”

“And when I say live at Puck?” Geno asked.

“I figured, at best, you were a teammate,” Sid said. “Or maybe a trainer — you do seem to have all of your teeth. But I wasn’t really worried about it at the time. I was a bit, um, distracted. While it’s a nice bonus, despite what Kris thinks, ‘hockey player’ isn’t my primary requirement in a guy.”

“Good to know,” Geno said quietly, effectively narrowing the conversation down to just the two of them as he took Sid’s hand and brushed his thumb over Sid’s knuckles. 

“Oh, goodness, would you look at the time,” Tanger said, breaking the silence that suddenly had fallen over the table. “We really need to get going if we’re going to make it to that thing, Flower.” 

“Oh, right,” Flower said, barely missing a beat before he was pushing back his chair, the legs scraping the floor as he stood. “The thing. Can’t miss that.” 

“What ‘thing’?” Sid asked, narrowing his eyes at his friends.

“Studying with the girls,” Flower said as Tanger piped up with “grocery run.”

“Cath and Vero are working this morning or you two wouldn’t be here,” Sid said. “And you never go to the grocery on Saturday morning, Tanger.”

“Can’t talk, Sid,” Tanger said. “Gotta go.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a terrible headache and the pounding’s only going to make it worse,” Flower said.

“What pounding?!” Sid asked, genuinely baffled. “It’s Saturday morning. It’s so quiet even the German shepherd at the frat house across the street is sleeping in.”

“The pounding of the headboard, Sid,” Flower said, backing out of the kitchen and pushing Tanger out behind him. “You can’t hear it yet, but you will. Probably just as soon as Tanger and I leave.” 

Sid stared at the now empty kitchen doorway for a moment as realization dawned.

“You fuckers,” he yelled after his retreating roommates. “I don’t even have a headboard and you know it.”

Sid sat there for a moment, letting the tsunami that was his best friends wash over him for a second before he rubbed his hands over his face and stood up.

“Sorry about them,” Sid said to Geno as he picked up his plate and Geno’s to walk them to the sink. “I think that means they like you.” 

“Is OK,” Geno said, looking a bit bemused but smiling. “They seem like good guys, good friends.” 

“Don’t tell them I said so, but they’re pretty great,” Sid said as he ran a plate under the faucet. “And if they didn’t like you, I’m pretty sure we’d all know it.”

By the time Geno had helped Sid clear the rest of the table, Tanger and Flower had made it to their rooms and were back at the front door, coats in hand and shoving on their shoes. Then they were shouting their goodbyes just before Sid heard the door slam and feet on the stairs.

“So, do you have some time to hang around?” Sid asked as he finished rinsing the milk remnants from the bottom of a glass and setting it in the sink with the rest of the dishes to wash later. 

“A bit,” Geno said, kissing the side of Sid’s head. “Have workout, have study to make up for classes missed for this week’s games. All can do whenever, you know? As long as I do. But not want to outstay welcome.”

“Trust me, you haven’t,” Sid said, grinning as he dried his hands on a dish towel and folded it over the door handle on the stove before turning into Geno’s arms. “If you still have some time, I seem to have the place to myself for a while. We could go back to my room and see what else we can get up to. … Or just what else we can get up.” 

“Shower first?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sid said. “That’s probably … yeah. Go ahead. There are towels in the closet behind the bathroom door. You’re welcome to use anything you need — except Kris’ shampoo. It’s the one with the French label and it’s ridiculously expensive, especially for a college student. And he’s very protective of it. So, just … yeah. But anything else, go for it. There might even be a spare toothbrush under the sink.”

“Offer stands from last night,” Geno said, punctuating it with a kiss. “You could join me.” 

Sid hesitated a bit too long and Geno pulled back.

“Or, no. Is OK. Not everyone like shower sex. Is fine.”

“It's not that, I promise,” Sid said, finally getting his mouth to work and reaching for Geno’s hand.

“Is OK, Sid,” Geno said. “Really.”

“I just … I don’t want you to misunderstand,” Sid said. “I know this is still just a hookup and, if that’s all it ever is, that’s fine. I’m not proclaiming my undying love for you when we’ve known each other approximately 12 hours and have spent most of that time either getting off together or sleeping. But I don’t usually invite guys back here, and they don’t usually stay for breakfast and meet my friends.”

“Sid,” Geno started, his face doing something complicated that Sid couldn’t quite sift through, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it. At the risk of ruining the whole of Canada’s reputation, Sid didn’t care if he was rude in that moment — he needed to finish what he was saying before Geno interjected.

Besides, Sid was pretty sure he could make it up to Geno later for talking over him now.

“And,” he said, just a bit louder to quiet Geno. “I definitely don’t ask guys I’ve just met to fuck me into the mattress. But, if you want to, I think I’d really like you to do that.”

Geno looked gobsmacked for a split second, though whether it was from the idea of fucking Sid or trying to be sure he was translating the conversation correctly, Sid wasn’t sure.

“Yes,” Geno finally said, his voice a bit raspy. “Definite would like.” 

“Good,” Sid said, grinning up at Geno. “But that means I need a shower, too, and I need to be, um, thorough about it.”

Sid raised his eyebrows and made sure he was looking Geno in the eye, willing him to understand even as he could feel his face heating. It was basic biology and he wasn’t going to be ashamed of it, even if he also was hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out.

“I think you’d be a distraction,” Sid continued. “The best kind, but still …”

“You make good argument,” Geno agreed as Sid saw comprehension spread across Geno’s features. “I’m go shower — alone. Be quick about it, so you can get in. Meet you back in bedroom.” 

“Sounds good,” Sid agreed, as Geno gave him another quick kiss before dropping his hand and disappearing down the hall and into the bathroom.

Once Sid heard the bathroom door click behind Geno, he stared at the dishes in the kitchen sink for a moment, debating whether he should go ahead and wash them. It probably wouldn’t hurt, but he wasn’t particularly inspired. Instead, he wandered into the bedroom and looked around. He picked up his discarded clothes from the night before, tossing everything into the hamper. He straightened Geno’s shoes, lining them up beside his own next to his desk, and tossed Geno’s crumpled-up socks on top.

He didn’t see Geno’s underwear anywhere, so he assumed Geno had found them when he came back to get his shirt before they ate and Sid’s breakfast fantasies about crawling under the table, unzipping his jeans and taking advantage of his lack of underwear to suck him off again probably were misguided. Still, it was a nice thought and Sid’s dick twitched in his gym shorts at the memory of having Geno’s weight on his tongue the night before. 

Pretty soon he was going to have Geno’s length inside him, filling him, all of his weight pinning Sid and holding him together while taking him apart. The thought pushed Sid toward his bedside table to pull out a couple of condoms and the lube, which he set beside the wipes on top of the table, carefully within arm’s reach of his bed but far enough away from the edge that they wouldn’t accidentally be knocked to the floor.

Sid had a pretty good knack for visualizing things, but he ruthlessly shut down the thought of Geno pushing into him and set about distracting himself by changing the sheets on his bed. It’s not that they were filthy after Sid and Geno’s activities the night before and, if they did it right, Sid fully expected them to be filthy before the morning was over. But he also knew how good clean sheets felt on bare skin right after a shower, and it’s not like he wasn’t going to do laundry later anyway.

He had just tucked the last corner of the fitted sheet around the mattress edge and was straightening the quilt along the foot of the bed when Geno walked in, his clothes folded in a stack in one hand and a towel wrapped around his waist. Glancing up, Sid could see it was a twin to the one he had used the night before, but Sid was sure it looked much more like a hand towel than a bath towel relative to Geno’s long legs and strong thighs.

Sid straightened, sucking in a breath as his eyes traveled up Geno’s body to his face.

“Yeah, um,” he said, because he was smooth like that. “I put your shoes by the desk. You can leave your clothes on it or on the chair. I’m just going to go …”

“Take your time,” Geno said as he sat the pile of clothes on the desktop and used his now empty hands to catch Sid as he started past him and reeled him in until their hips were flush. The terry cloth of Geno’s towel and Sid’s silky thin gym shorts provided little actual barrier between them and Sid was sure he could feel the definition of individual muscles in Geno’s thighs pressing into his. Not to mention his dick. Geno might not be fully hard, but he wasn’t trying to hide his interest, either. “But hurry back.”

“Got it,” Sid said, allowing himself to spread his hands wide over Geno’s ass and squeeze as he pulled their hips that much closer together. “I’ll be quick. Make yourself comfortable.”

∞∞∞

When Sid returned a short while later, Geno had taken him at his word. The towel was folded and sitting on the floor by the edge of the bed, easily accessible, and Geno …

Geno was naked — spectacularly so — flat on his back with his head resting on a pillow, one hand tucked beneath it. He had his other hand cupped loosely around his dick and was relaxed, long legs splayed. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his own skin and every bit of it worked for Sid.

Knowing his roommates would be gone for a while, Sid hadn’t even bothered with a towel, though he did close and lock his bedroom door again, just to be sure. Then he strode to the foot of the bed and crawled his way between Geno’s calves and into the space between his thighs. He planted his palms on the bed on either side of Geno’s shoulders and lowered himself until their bodies were aligned as much as was possible with Geno’s added height.

“Hi,” Sid said, his lips nearly brushing Geno’s.

“Hi,” Geno replied with a soft smile before Sid closed the gap and kissed Geno like he was trying to meld them into one being.

Geno gave as good as he got in the kiss, having the added advantage of free hands that he slid down Sid’s ribs and across Sid’s lower back and still lower to squeeze at the line where Sid’s ass met his upper thighs.

Sid moaned as a shudder wracked his body and he broke the kiss to bury his face in Geno’s neck.

“You still want?” Geno asked, trailing a long finger up the crease of Sid’s ass but not venturing deeper.

“Yes,” Sid said. “Please. There’s, uh, lube and condoms …” He lifted a hand to wave in the general direction of the bedside table as he mouthed at the spot where Geno’s neck and shoulder met.

“I’m see,” Geno said, turning his head toward the table and inadvertently baring more of his neck to Sid’s perusal. “You so prepare.”

“No point in fumbling around in a few minutes when I could have them out and ready,” Sid replied practically before licking up the side of Geno’s neck and biting right below his ear.

Geno’s hips jerked in response as he gripped Sid’s ass and kneaded at the muscle there before allowing his finger to dip deeper into Sid’s crack and press against his hole. Sid felt Geno tense for a moment as his fingertip easily slipped inside.

“Even more prepare than I’m think,” Geno said, the tension bleeding away as quickly as it came. “Already get yourself ready, Sid?”

“Just a bit,” Sid replied. “It never hurts to do a bit of the work in advance.” 

“True,” Geno agreed easily, removing his fingertip and adding a second before carefully pressing again. “But … when you do — were you just be practical, or were you think about my dick while you had own fingers in your ass?”

“Christ, Geno,” Sid said, grinding his dick into Geno’s pelvis as he closed his eyes against the mental image of Geno watching him finger himself. “Fuck. Get some more lube and stop teasing.”

“Scoot,” Geno said withdrawing his fingers and taking a light swat at Sid’s ass as he shifted under Sid.

Sid made a show of reluctantly pushing up and off of Geno, slowly sliding down his body and letting his lips drag along Geno’s skin as he did. When he found himself once again at eye level with Geno’s dick — already halfway hard and making Sid’s mouth water — he couldn’t resist wrapping his lips around the head and giving it a slow, wet suck before pulling farther back.

Geno jerked and then muttered something presumably Russian and likely a curse as his knuckles bounced loudly off of the edge of the bedside table, where he’d already been reaching for the lube. 

“Behave, Sid,” he said with a bit of a growl and another playful slap at Sid’s ass as Sid let himself flop flat on his stomach on the mattress. 

“Really?” Sid snorted, his face half-buried in the pillow but with one eye still on Geno. “You want me to behave? Now? If I wanted to behave, I’d be at the library studying.” 

“You know what I’m mean,” Geno said, lube and a condom packet in hand as he shifted to straddle Sid’s thighs.

Sid had a split second to regret that he no longer had a clear view of Geno — he had been appreciating the fluid roll of lean muscle as Geno moved — before Geno’s hands were on Sid’s shoulders and tracing the planes and dips of Sid’s back and lower.

Then Geno had both hands on Sid’s ass and was squeezing, fingers digging into skin and separating Sid’s cheeks as he did until Sid felt the slightly cooler air of the room ghosting over his lightly lubed hole. Sid squirmed as best he could with Geno’s weight on his thighs, sighing at the slight friction he was able to create for his dick.

“How you get this ass, Sid?” Geno asked, his voice gone husky with just a touch of awe. “Better than anything I see in locker room, and hockey asses legendary for be good.” 

Sid smiled into the pillow and pushed back, succeeding in thrusting the ass in question up and more firmly into Geno’s grip.

“Played hockey through high school,” Sid said. “Still like to keep in shape.”

“Why you stop?” Geno asked as he pressed two long, well-lubed fingers against Sid’s entrance and in, careful enough paired with Sid’s earlier efforts that it didn’t hurt but also not stopping his steady push in until Sid could feel the join of Geno’s fingers pressing against his rim.

Sid sucked in a short gasp of air to replace the oxygen that felt as if it had been punched out of his lungs as Geno’s fingers curled inside him.

“Ask me again when you don’t have two fingers in my ass,” Sid replied, rubbing his temple into the pillow to help clear the haze and focus his thoughts. “And you can make it three.”

“Now I’m see how is,” Geno said, slowly — so slowly — sliding his fingers out and tracing Sid’s rim as he used his other hand to squeeze Sid’s ass again. “You secretly bossy.”

“You have a problem with that?” Sid asked, teasing with his words as much as with the roll of his hips.

“No,” Geno said. “No problem. It’s good you know what you want. Like that you want me.”

“I do,” Sid said, reaching a hand back to grasp at Geno’s thigh and tugging him forward. “Now come on.”

“Do you need three fingers, or you just want my dick?” Geno asked, pushing the head of it against the spot where his fingers had just been.

Sid shivered at the sensation, the question, the thought of Geno’s generous proportions sliding into his not-quite-fully-prepped hole. He dug his short nails into Geno’s thigh as he crumpled a fistful of pillow into the palm of his other hand.

“Fuck,” Sid said. “Yeah. Just your dick’s good. Condom, lots of lube. Your dick. Make me feel it.”

“Definite bossy,” Geno said with a laugh as he pulled back and Sid heard the tear of the condom packet. 

Then there was the snick of the cap on the tube of lube and a wet squelch and then Geno had his dick right back at Sid’s entrance. Sid wriggled a bit in encouragement, hoping it actually was encouraging and not enough to throw off Geno’s aim.

He needn’t have worried. Geno easily stilled Sid’s movement with firm hands on Sid’s hips and then pressed forward until the head of his penis popped past the first tight barrier and in just a bit. Sid breathed in through his nose and exhaled, willing himself to relax. Geno’s dick was … a lot. And Sid was more than good with that. But wanting to feel it and wanting to hurt himself were two different things — one was hot as hell and the other was a pretty strong nope — and he appreciated Geno giving him a moment to adjust.

Until he didn’t.

“OK, come on,” Sid said, pushing back in a bid to get Geno’s dick deeper inside him. “I’m ready.” 

Geno simply gripped Sid’s hips more firmly and pulled back just enough that Sid could feel the rim of the head of Geno’s dick tugging at the rim of Sid’s ass.

Sid moaned into the sensation, his eyes closing as he took another deep breath.

“Hang on a sec,” he said, hastening to continue his thought as Geno made an incoherent noise and moved as if to pull out. “Stay there. Just, don’t move.”

Before Geno could get any farther, Sid had pushed up and braced himself on his palms, elbows straight and lower back bowing as the move drove Geno’s dick incrementally deeper inside him.

“You OK?” Geno asked.

“Needed some leverage,” Sid said, reaching back with one hand to pat at Geno’s thigh before planting that palm flat against the wall in front of him. “Now, go.”

“Most definite bossy,” Geno said, though Sid could hear the grin in his voice.

And Sid could definitely feel it when Geno began to comply, a slow, slick slide that steadily stretched Sid until he could feel Geno’s thighs against the backs of his ass and his testicles swaying gently into Sid’s. Geno’s dick wasn’t actual freak-of-nature proportions, but he was both thick and long and Sid silently congratulated himself on ignoring his usual hook-up rules in favor of fast-tracking this.

“Fuck, Geno,” Sid said on a broken inhale, letting his head drop between his shoulders as he focused on his breathing and the near-overwhelming sensation of fullness.

“So tight, Sid,” Geno said, leaning over Sid’s back to mouth at his shoulder blade. “Feel so good. You sure you OK?” 

“Fuck,” Sid breathed. “Yeah, I’m OK. More ... than OK. Fuck. You’re … a lot. But it’s good. So good.”

“Haven’t really done anything yet,” Geno said, his voice raspy in Sid’s ear as he rocked his hips more firmly against Sid’s thighs and bit at the shell of Sid’s ear and then his ear lobe, sending frissons of electricity from where Geno’s teeth were staking their claim to where his dick was.

Sid’s own dick throbbed, bobbing hard between his thighs as Sid twisted his neck to try to align his mouth with Geno’s. The connection was sloppy and nowhere near perfect, but Sid was gratified to hear the moan that escaped his throat echoed by Geno as Geno stretched into it, his weight more firmly pressed along Sid’s back and against — and in — his ass.

Sid shifted his weight more fully on the hand braced against the wall and reached for himself with the other, a choked sound synching with the moment he wrapped his hand around his dick and tugged.

“Fuck,” Sid gasped out against the corner of Geno’s mouth, no longer truly kissing but unwilling to turn away.

“Can do,” Geno said, and it didn’t sound nearly so much like a joke as it did a promise.

Then Geno straightened and Sid absolutely didn’t make a wounded noise at the loss of contact or the cool air of the room hitting his overheated skin. He tugged again at his dick and shifted his knees to square his balance.

“Good?” Geno asked, his hands smoothing over the curve of Sid’s ass.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sid managed. 

Geno slid his hands across Sid’s cheeks, not harshly but firmly enough that Sid felt the pull and separation as Geno dug his fingers into Sid’s hips and his thumbs into the meat of Sid’s ass to either side of his hole. Then Geno was sliding out, slowly again, and probably a bit more carefully than Sid would have preferred.

Sid had a split second in which to mentally juxtapose Geno’s firm grip on his hips with his almost too-gentle slide before Geno thrust forward, fast and hard and deep, and Sid made an unintelligible noise as he was propelled forward despite Geno’s effort to hold him in place.

“Fuck,” Sid said, the word sounding choked from his lungs. “Do that again.” 

And maybe there was a reason Geno was so good at hockey, because he was clearly coachable, taking Sid at his word and repeating the slow drag out and the hard thrust in like it was a drill he’d run in practice until he perfected it. Right up until Sid’s patience for the slow drag waned and he began thrusting back to meet each hard thrust, changing their pace in the process.

Sid had kept his hand wrapped around his dick but hadn’t done much more than hold on for dear life as he took everything Geno offered and greedily demanded more. His elbow began to wobble where he was braced against the wall and he felt his balls draw up more firmly until they were pressing along the side of his hand where he was squeezing the base of his dick.

“I’m so close,” he said.

Which apparently was the right thing to say, because Geno spit out something in Russian and thrust deeper, triggering sparks behind Sid’s eyelids as his arm finally gave out and he collapsed to the bed, his face again buried in the pillow and one hand still on his dick, trapped beneath his body. 

Geno didn’t miss a beat, falling with Sid and using what resistance the mattress was providing to continue the rhythm and pace they had established.

Sid didn’t have time to worry about the fact that he couldn’t stroke himself in his current position before he no longer needed to worry — the simple pressure of his hand and Geno’s weight combined with the friction of his sheets until he was coming, hot and hard, his body clenching as it worked to drag Geno even deeper inside him.

Geno swore again, his hands curling — one into Sid’s ribs, the other into the sheets by Sid’s head — as he gave one last deep thrust and tensed on a moan that sent a shiver of heat down Sid’s spine and forced one last drop from his spent dick. Then Geno collapsed on Sid as if he had just been bag-skated, limbs loose and just a bit quivery, his fingers relaxing their grip.

Sid knew the feeling, but he mustered enough energy to raise his head and suck one of Geno’s now-pliable fingers into his mouth, letting his lips close on its base and his tongue swirl around its knuckles. A shudder similar to the one that has recently wracked Sid worked its way through Geno’s body and his dick throbbed gratifyingly inside Sid as Geno whined low in his throat before Sid pulled off.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching his free hand back to pet at Geno’s hip.

“Hey,” Geno replied, his voice in Sid’s ear.

“That was a pretty spectacular hat trick,” Sid said. 

Geno snorted a quiet laugh before shifting a bit and carefully sliding out, letting himself slip to one side of Sid’s body. Sid squirmed to settle the slightly awkward “empty” sensation, which only served to remind him that he was still lying on his arm, his hand resting in a puddle of come. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and rolled over to grab the tub of wipes as Geno removed the condom and tied it off.

∞∞∞

“I know there are some, uh, rules, about Russians names and who calls you what, right?” Sid asked as he lay tucked under Geno’s arm, head on his shoulder, forefinger teasing through the intriguing patch of hair between Geno’s pecs. “That’s why so many names, yeah?”

“Mostly, yes,” Geno murmured, still a bit wiped out from taking Sid apart and being taken apart in the process.

“Does anyone ever use your middle name — Vladimirovich?” Sid asked.

“It’s not really a middle name, way Patrick is for you,” Geno said. “Some people use sometimes, not like it illegal. Why you ask?”

“Because I think I’m going to start calling you Vlad,” Sid said, his voice somewhere between teasing and blissed out as he trailed his finger down Geno’s chest to trace around his belly button.

“OK,” Geno said, confusion evident in his tone. “I guess not a problem, you know. But why Vlad? Geno not easy enough?” 

“No, Geno’s great. But the way you use this?” Sid said, letting his wandering finger trace the still-impressive length of Geno’s softening dick. “You definitely deserve the title ‘Vlad the Impaler’. At least, your dick does.”

Geno was quiet for a half beat before he laughed, not loudly but enough that his body shook around Sid.

“You say you want to die on my dick?” he asked, a grin spreading wide as Sid lifted his head to meet Geno’s gaze as Geno glanced down at him.

“There are certainly worse ways to go,” Sid said, stretching enough to meet Geno in a kiss that started as warm afterglow but quickly rekindled into something hot enough to make Sid’s lungs burn before he finally pulled back to gulp in some air. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate (and, perhaps, preferred) title: vlad the impaler was a real dick!


End file.
